The first of three concerts I recently attended was by a local artist, Braydon Zinc, held at NJC in the Dorothy J. Corsberg Theater. He called it a 10th Anniversary Concert, which felt more like an appreciation celebration. Braydon gave credit and kudos to his roots and the many who supported and encouraged him to live his dream of writing and singing music.

Braydon was crazy talented on the guitar, authentic, entertaining, and funny. He told heartfelt stories, and his original songs were touching and personal. He gave the audience his Crème de la crème.

I was impressed and felt fortunate to experience the love and support friends and family showed a local man who followed his heart and made it happen.

The next was a Graham Nash concert at the Chautauqua Park in  Boulder. The evening was calm and serene —Colorado was beautiful. Once inside the open architectural 120-year-old building, the stage glowed with amber pillar candles—the only light in the place—there was a power outage. We prepared for an announcement of cancellation because there was no electricity for stage lights or amplifying speakers and instruments. Attendees in the sold-out approximate 1,500-seat theater clapped and shouted with joy when Nash and his band walked on stage. We could barely hear the music or the stories Nash told, and the artists looked like tiny shadows. Still, the evening filled me with awe. Except for one woman behind us who shouted, “Talk louder, we can’t hear you!” the audience was respectful, attentive, and compassionate to the unusual circumstances. It was intimate and renewed my faith in the human spirit.

The final concert was at Planet Bluegrass in Lyons. It was called the Rocky Mountain Folk Festival. We arrived with lawn chairs in tow and enjoyed three different entertainers. It was a little like Woodstock must have been—lots of hats, sandals, flowing skirts, flowers, and many families with kids of all ages having fun together. People danced and ate from picnic baskets or cuisine from numerous food trucks. Couples held hands, laughed with friends, and star gazed. It was enchanting—invigorating—joyful. The Saint Vrain Creek bordered the venue, and people of all ages were tubing. Stunning granite cliffs and majestic pines surrounded the sizable grassed area before the stage.

The experience was peaceful.

The value of music and the private or shared experiences songs and lyrics offer are an essential part of our culture. During these three concerts, I saw the best of humanity: from small-town gratitude to making the best of it to letting your hair down and enjoying the beat, the company, and the environment.

During each, I felt like the center of an Oreo cookie.

Until the next time: Live while you live.

Jennifer Goble, Ph.D., LPC, is the author of “My Clients…My Teachers,” and the blogger and writer of Rural Women Stories: www.ruralwomenstories.com.

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